In the desolate wilderness—

Prince Ning, Xiao Tan, stumbled and sat down on a large boulder with the help of his subordinates. He stared at the bowl of corn gruel in front of him, bubbles floating on the surface, and his shriveled stomach churned with nausea. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Ever since that night when An Youliang had taken him out of the palace, he had spent several days eating in the wind and sleeping in the open, climbing mountains day and night without rest. He didn’t even have a horse to ride. His feet were covered in blisters, aching terribly.

Having never suffered like this in his life, Xiao Tan’s already pale face turned completely bloodless at the sight of the thin gruel—he nearly threw up.

“Your Highness, this is all the food we have. You can’t be picky. We still need to keep moving after a short rest,” said An Youliang as he wiped the sweat from his face with a sleeve. The once-powerful grand eunuch now looked equally disheveled. He cast a cold glance down at Xiao Tan and spoke with no patience.

Xiao Tan dared not protest. He took small sips from the bowl, forcing it down.

Chen Chong was mixed in with the exhausted and disorganized Imperial Guards. A piece of straw hung from his mouth as he ground his molars together, trying to find some taste in it. His eyes stared blankly at the thin gruel in Prince Ning’s hands. His throat moved with a swallow as he cursed inwardly.

Goddammit, he thought. We’re all starving enough to eat bark and dirt, and this prince is still being picky? If he doesn’t want it, I’ll eat it for him!

“Brother Chong, are we still patrolling this area?” A fellow soldier with a similarly miserable expression approached him and asked.

Chen Chong spat out the straw and said, “We patrol.”

The soldier’s face immediately fell. “Who’d even be out here in this godforsaken wilderness?”

Chen Chong raised a brow at him. “You not going?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” The man didn’t dare defy the order, gripping his blade and heading into the hills.

Chen Chong leaned against a tree, scanning the miserable faces in the camp of Imperial Guards. His brow furrowed.

Morale had hit rock bottom. Even the two commanders of the Left and Right Divisions couldn’t stir the troops to fight. If anyone set up an ambush in these mountains, the consequences would be disastrous.

Days of nonstop travel had stretched his nerves to the limit. After a while, clutching his blade, he finally drifted off.

He was awoken by rustling in the forest.

Glancing at the darkening sky, he shoved awake a dozing soldier next to him. “Where’s Old Third?”

That was the man he’d just sent out on patrol.

The soldier blinked groggily. “Huh?”

Chen Chong shot up, stamping out the fire on the ground. “He hasn’t come back. It’s been too long. Something’s wrong.”

The other man snapped awake too, but froze halfway up and turned toward the trees. “Brother Chong, I hear something—isn’t that Old Third coming back?”

Chen Chong didn’t move. He listened intently to the rustling sounds from the slope, then his expression darkened. He gripped the hilt at his waist. “That’s not him! Wake the others—now!”

“Get up! Ambush! We’re under attack—get your asses up!” the soldier screamed, scrambling to his feet in panic.

Whoosh—

In that instant, a dense shower of black dots filled the sky—arrows rained down like a storm.

A group of bandit-looking men burst out of the forest, led by several burly figures wielding blades. They charged the unprepared Imperial Guards.

Amid the chaos of blood and steel, Prince Ning, Xiao Tan, wearing his cumbersome brocade robes, rolled and crawled in a desperate attempt to escape. In the confusion, his guards had scattered. Now, there was no one left by his side.

In a panic, he turned to a nearby soldier. “H-help me—”

Before he could finish, a scalding liquid splattered across his face. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the soldier’s severed head roll to the ground.

The mutilated corpse collapsed right in front of him.

So much blood…

Xiao Tan’s legs gave out. He fell to the ground, lips trembling as he stared at the bandit raising his blade toward him.

The next second—

Splurt!

The bandit spat out blood, his movement freezing as a blade pierced through his chest.

Chen Chong pulled his bloodied sword free and looked past the collapsing bandit to the nearly paralyzed Xiao Tan.

Seeing this pampered prince clearly couldn’t walk, Chen Chong quickly assessed him from head to toe, estimating his worth. After a moment’s hesitation, he hoisted Xiao Tan over his shoulder and took off running.

He led his small unit to the mountaintop and ordered the only rope bridge connecting the mountain path to be cut. With it gone, the majority of the bandits and nearly a thousand Imperial Guards were trapped on the lower slopes.

The commanders of the Guards finally regained control, organizing the remaining troops to wipe out the scattered bandits and stabilize the situation.

They began tallying the numbers.

It had only been seven or eight days since they left Luoyang, but already more than half of the troops had fled, gone missing, or been killed.

When they reached a clearing, Chen Chong finally set Prince Ning down.

Xiao Tan’s face was ghostly pale, tears streaming down his cheeks. He choked out, “Th-thank you, brave warrior, for saving my life…”

Chen Chong gave a small smile. “Just doing my duty, Your Highness.”

In his heart, he once again cursed Prince Ning and all his ancestors. What good is saying thank you?

Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from the crowd, “Where is the Prince? Where is His Highness?”

Supported by his subordinates, An Youliang scanned the surroundings with a fierce and ruthless gaze.

Prince Ning was now the only bargaining chip he had left—he could not afford to lose this last trace of royal blood.

“I’m here,” Prince Ning choked out.

An Youliang immediately stepped forward. “Is Your Highness hurt?”

“No… This brave man here saved me just now,” Prince Ning replied.

An Youliang looked over at Chen Chong beside him, eyeing him up and down. “You’re the squad leader who ordered the rope bridge cut?”

Chen Chong knelt down before him. “Yes, that was me. This lowly one is Chen Chong. Greetings, Lord Privy Envoy.”

An Youliang saw that he had a dignified appearance, a tall and solid build, and carried himself with decisiveness and alertness. “You did well saving the prince—your actions deserve a reward. I find you quite pleasing. I’m thinking of adopting you as my foster son. Would you be willing?”

Chen Chong knew his opportunity had arrived. He pressed his lips together, then immediately said, “Father.”

Hearing him call out “Father,” An Youliang and those around him burst into laughter.

That one word made An Youliang feel very pleased. He immediately ordered a reward—a gold belt and a generous amount of silver. “You’re a capable man. The Imperial Guards are short a Deputy Commander of the Right Division. Why don’t we give that post to you?”

A squad leader was just a ninth-rank officer commanding a small team. A deputy commander, on the other hand, was practically in charge of an entire division.

The gap between the two was as vast as earth and sky, bridged by nothing more than the will of those in power.

Chen Chong kowtowed in gratitude. “Thank you, Father, for your favor!”

Once the remaining Imperial Guards were reorganized, An Youliang didn’t dare rest. He immediately ordered the troops to resume their march.

After the chaos just now, Prince Ning’s legs were too weak to walk, let alone climb a mountain.

Chen Chong offered to carry him.

Prince Ning hesitated for a moment, then climbed onto his back. From where the prince couldn’t see, a look of disdain flickered across Chen Chong’s face.

His real name was Chen Gou’er. He had once been a butcher, done work on the canals, served as a courier at a post station—all the lowest of lowly jobs. Later, when the Shenwei Imperial Guards expanded their ranks, he and a few brothers enlisted and climbed his way to the rank of squad leader.

As a child, people like him—outcasts and the lowborn—viewed the royal family as divine, like the gods and Buddhas enshrined in temples, beings to be worshipped and revered.

But now, he glanced at the Prince of Ning, slumped asleep on his back.

So this was how close one could get to royalty.

So even an emperor’s life… could be held in the palm of his hand.

…

On the day of the Rabbit in the first month of the new year, the Princess of Zhaoyi from the Yan dynasty was married off to the heir of the King of the North.

Amid the sounds of drums and music, a bright red wedding palanquin stopped before the newly refurbished General’s Manor. A crimson carpet stretched from the gate all the way to the street, and festive red lanterns hung beneath the eaves.

A crowd of townspeople had gathered along the roadside to watch the palanquin procession.

Since the day An Youliang fled the capital with the Imperial Guards, Luoyang had been somber and desolate. Now, it finally showed signs of life again.

One official after another arrived at the General’s Manor to offer congratulations. The tension that had gripped them for so long loosened just a bit on this day.

Since Li Jichang took the capital, countless officials had died. As former ministers of Yan, they all lived with the constant fear of purges. It felt like a sword was forever hanging over their heads, ready to fall at any moment.

The marriage between the King of the North’s heir and a Yan dynasty princess was like a numbing salve on a gaping, bleeding wound—it dulled the panic, if only for a little while.

When the eunuch in charge of the procession shouted “Lower the bridal palanquin—” Li Jinxi stepped forward and lifted the curtain.

Inside sat Xiao Heng, dressed in dazzling red robes, a phoenix coronet upon his head. The intricate embroidery of phoenixes glimmered under the light of dangling beads, casting a soft golden glow over him.

Even with his face obscured by the red veil, the regal aura radiating from Xiao Heng made it impossible for anyone to look directly at him.

“Your Highness,” two maids in the procession reached out, trying to help him down from the palanquin.

But the next moment, a slender hand grasped the edge of the door.

Xiao Heng brushed past their hands and stepped down on his own.

The townsfolk lining the streets watched as the bridal procession climbed the stone steps of the General’s Manor. Just as they were about to disperse—

Suddenly, someone cried out, “The Princess—!”

They saw the figure at the top of the steps lift a corner of the bridal veil, revealing a side profile like cold, flawless jade. Xiao Heng turned to gaze deeply at the Luoyang city street behind him, as if trying to etch the sight of its decay forever into memory.

The crowd stirred with renewed excitement. The head matron accompanying the dowry gasped in horror. “Your Highness, this is against custom! Quickly, lower your veil!”

Xiao Heng turned back. His sharp, upturned phoenix eyes swept lazily across her, silencing the matron instantly.

With a thunderous boom, the heavy red doors of the manor slowly opened inward.

Xiao Heng lowered his hand. The fringe of the bridal veil fell, sealing away the once-glorious Luoyang street behind a curtain of memory.

The ceremonial team tossed the wedding money into the air as he crossed the threshold of the General’s Manor, walking past the outer gate.

Amid the passionate and rousing sounds of drums, Xiao Heng seemed to hear the sound of swift and powerful dance steps perfectly synchronized with the drumbeats. The ceremonial team beside him halted in unison.

He instinctively lifted the red veil that obscured his view. To his surprise, the personal guards around Duan Yunfeng had removed their silver spears and white armor. They were now dressed in the traditional clothing of the Mo Bei Li Yue tribe, standing beneath the eaves of the courtyard, gracefully dancing to the rhythm of the drums.

At the center of the dance was a figure clad in a bright red brocade robe, his feet wearing engraved silver boots. He wore an ancient, fearsome beast mask resembling Chi You, the mythical war god, with golden tassels on the side of his headpiece fluttering as he turned. His posture was strong and agile, his long legs steady and powerful, moving in perfect rhythm with the drumbeats, his body exuding a raw, primal strength. The narrow waist cinched with leather straps displayed impressive resilience.

This was the traditional dance of the Li Yue tribe. Whenever there was a wedding, the groom would dance in front of his beloved and his tribespeople. The origins of this dance could be traced back hundreds of years to when Li Yue men, living in the cold deserts, would perform this dance for their loved ones to showcase their strong physiques. It was a way of proving that they were the most suitable candidates to bear the next generation, much like the courtship dances of male birds. Over time, the dance gradually evolved into a ceremonial ritual.

As the final drumbeat sounded like a thunderous crash, Duan Yunfeng removed his fearsome beast mask, revealing his handsome and striking face. He grinned widely, his smile carefree and bold.

Xiao Heng raised an eyebrow, inspecting the man. He hadn’t known that Duan Yunfeng could dance in addition to being a skilled warrior.

His dance wasn’t worse than the graceful moves of the imperial courtesans. It was even much better than the Turkic khan he had once captured in the capital in his previous life.

If Duan Yunfeng had been in the past, he might have barely managed to serve as an imperial guard with a blade. Perhaps on festivals, he could have been made to dance in the palace as part of the entertainment.

Just as Xiao Heng was thinking this, the matron accompanying the dowry could no longer hold back. She slapped Xiao Heng’s hand, forcing him to lower his veil. “This marriage hasn’t been completed yet, how can the princess just lift her veil?”

Then, she whispered in his ear, “Even if the princess wishes to see the general, she must not be so hasty.”

Xiao Heng: “?”

Who’s hasty?

“The bridal procession will soon pass the saddle, be careful of your steps, Your Highness.”

With the matron’s soft reminder, the ceremonial team continued forward, heading toward the courtyard.

They walked all the way to Duan Yunfeng. The official in charge took out a red silk cord, tying a knot at both ends and handing one to Xiao Heng and the other to Duan Yunfeng.

As Xiao Heng took the red silk, someone suddenly grasped his other hand. Through the thin veil of the red cover, he felt a gaze directed at him.

The hand that should have held the red silk cord was instead secretly holding his hand.

“…” Xiao Heng frowned, a faint displeasure stirring in his heart. Touching him without his consent, especially without permission or consultation, was a great disrespect.

However, when he thought about his current situation, Xiao Heng had no choice but to suppress his irritation. Without realizing it, he subconsciously increased the pressure in his hand.

Duan Yunfeng froze.

He looked down at the hand tightly clasping his, thinking that the princess must be shy, which was why she held his hand so tightly. With that thought, his heart swelled with sweetness. He swallowed, his ears turning red as he looked at Xiao Heng. “Don’t be nervous…”

“I’ll hold your hand later.”